


leggo my eggo

by evotter



Series: the adventures of spideychelle [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Gen, MJ is the best, No Spoilers, Peter Parker is a Little Shit, Peter says Fuck, Precious Peter Parker, Social Media AU, Starbucks, it's a petermj fic but it's not obnoxious, kind of, peter and mj are just kids and they dont know how to be in a relationship, pleAse validate me, they're COOL okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-06-25 18:15:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19751137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evotter/pseuds/evotter
Summary: peter: heypeter: are u awkepeter: i want wafluspeter: walfoos?peter: the LEGGo my eggo shitOr: Michelle wonders, still, how her life has become this: normal visits to the Avengers facility, Tony Stark among other Avengers in her contacts. Her boyfriend is a superhero, for shit’s sake. She babysits Hawkeye’s kids in return for copious amounts of coffee money. Literally.





	leggo my eggo

**Author's Note:**

> anyway, after seeing FFH i was way more inspired to write for marvel. also i love petermj. it's not overwhelmingly obnoxious in this fic tho.  
> also - this is in the same universe as my first fic, "friendly neighborhood mj"; you don't HAVE to read it first, cause i kind of summarize what happens in that fic in this one, but it's really funny if i do say so myself so if you haven't read it you definitely should :')

In theory, being awake so late at night probably isn’t always the best idea. But who needs sleep anyway? Certainly not Michelle Jones, who has her own personal coffee-maker in her room for nights like these. Every night is an all-nighter with a little music and, like, six cups of coffee.

Is she aiming for an early death? Probably. 

Is coffee just that good? Also, yes.

It’s probably for the better that she stays awake, honestly. Not only is she extremely productive, but she knows she’s not the only Midtown student awake at this time. There’s only one other student usually awake who she gives a shit about, though, and -- speak of the devil, she thinks, as her phone buzzes next to her steaming cup of coffee. Peter’s messages pop up on her screen one after the other, covering her background photo.

**peter:** hey

**peter:** are u awke

**peter:** i want waflus

**peter:** fuck thast no t how u spell it

**peter:** walfoos?

**peter:** the LEGGo my eggo shit

**peter:** wal

**peter:** flus

Michelle stares at her phone for a good fifty seconds before letting out a sigh that she reserves only for when Peter Parker does stupid things. Which is literally every ten minutes. _peter it’s three in the fucking morning,_ she types back. _of course i’m awake._ Then, after another hard stare at the string of messages he’s just sent: _are you trying to spell waffles?_

Peter’s reply is swift. _YES do u ha veany_

_no and even if i did i wouldn’t give them to you because you’re an idiot_

Peter doesn’t respond for a moment, so she adds: _what is going on???_

_on patrol,_ is his answer. She rolls her eyes. Her phone vibrates again as she reaches to take a sip of her coffee. _got stabbed_

Michelle spews coffee all over her desk.

_what the fuck. where are you? i’m calling stark_

The message comes up as she’s opening up her contacts: _plz dont hes alreayd mad cause i left him on read_

_peter don’t fuck with me,_ she types back, before finding Tony Stark’s number in her phone. It’s honestly a miracle that she’s got the billionaire’s number. Then again, when your boyfriend’s a superhero and you pretended to be said superhero just to freak him out and end up involving all of the Avengers in the process, Michelle figures she’s earned it. 

**peter:** im not

**peter:** im at ur window

**peter:** help

Michelle shoves her phone between her ear and her shoulder as she crosses her bedroom. It rings once as she shoves her window open, twice as Peter clambers inside. Three times as he rips the mask off, letting out a breath.

“Hey,” says Peter, in a tone too casual considering the fact he’s got blood oozing out from his stomach. He uses his other arm to steady himself, then catches sight of her phone with widened eyes. “No, _no no no,_ hang up the phone, hang up—”

_“Hello?”_ Tony Stark asks. 

“Stark,” Michelle greets. Peter lets out a groan and leans against the wall with his eyes closed. “Heard Peter left you on read.”

_“Yeah, and he’s gonna get an earful from me next time I see him.”_ Tony grumbles. _“Why are you calling me at three in the morning? Shouldn’t you be asleep?”_

“Sleep is for the weak,” she deadpans. She adds, “Also, Peter’s in my bedroom. He got stabbed. Figured I should call you.”

Peter groans again. “He’s gonna kill me.”

_“I’m gonna kill him.”_ Tony says firmly. _“Shit. You got a first aid kit or anything?”_

“Duh.” Michelle replies. She’s almost offended. “My boyfriend’s a superhero and an idiot.”

_“I’m on my way.”_ Then he hangs up, leading Michelle to toss her phone onto the bed and pull the first aid kid out of her drawer.

“MJ,” says Peter, almost whining. “Why would you do that? You’re a snitch. A snitch is what you are.”

“Thank me later,” Michelle says dismissively, popping open the small case. “How bad is it?”

“Not bad.” 

“You’re such a liar.”

“Am not! Seriously, it’s, like, a flesh wound. A scratch. Not that bad, now that I think about it—”

“I’ll call May next if you don’t shut up.”

“Wow.” Peter says sarcastically. He collapses into her desk chair. “So touching. I love having such a caring girlfriend.”

“If you get blood on my chair, I’ll kill you.” Michelle threatens. She pulls gauze out of her tiny first aid kit and crosses back to him, pressing the absorbent against the wound. “I cannot believe you didn’t remember how to spell waffles.”

“In my defense, I got stabbed.”

“Right, ‘cause I’ll definitely forgive you for that reasoning,” she answers. Peter’s blood-soaked glove covers her hand. “Was it a mugger?”

“Pedophile.” Peter answers. “Or just a kidnapper. Karen got an Amber Alert. Guy’s unconscious now, kid’s back with her mom—I think I aggravated the wound by swinging—”

“Do you always crave waffles when you get stabbed?” Michelle asks, quirking an eyebrow.

He smiles half-heartedly. “Nah,” he says. “Just wanted a reason to see you. Y’know, in case I die.”

Michelle glares at him. “You’re the worst.”

Whatever Peter’s about to say next dies on his lips. Michelle hears the familiar firing of the Iron Man suit, followed by an excellent landing on her fire escape. The window is unlocked, so Tony Stark pulls it open, the nanites fading back into the plate on his chest as he steps inside. “How’s it going, spider-baby?” he greets, in a tone that even makes Michelle’s eyes widen a bit.

Peter groans. “Just let me die here.”

“Nope. Sorry, not allowed.” Tony flits a look over at Michelle before crouching in front of them. He swats away the gauze over Peter’s wound and lets the Iron Man gauntlet seal something over it. “That should hold it.”

“‘Til when?” Michelle asks, tossing the bloody fabric into her trash bin. 

“‘Til I get him to the medbay.”

For the second time, the spandex-clad teenager groans. “Are you serious?”

But Tony isn’t having it. “F.R.I.D.A.Y., read his vitals. What’s the damage?”

“I’m _fine,”_ Peter protests over the tinny Irish voice. “Seriously.”

“AIs don’t lie.” Tony responds. “Come on. Up you go. You owe Bruce big time for this, by the way. He won’t be happy.”

As Peter stands, the billionaire looks at Michelle. “Thanks,” he adds, so quiet she almost misses it. “I’d take you with, but I didn’t exactly bring the quinjet.”

“No worries,” says Michelle. Peter leans into Tony’s side as the Iron Man suit crawls back over his skin. It’s obvious he’s not quite coherent, which only makes her feel just a bit worse. “Just text me when he’s stitched up so I can rip him a new one.”

“As long as I get to first.” Tony replies. He glances at Michelle’s phone, still open from earlier, and cracks a grin. “Nice.”

She rolls her eyes. “Tell him about that and you’re dead.”

“You know, I genuinely believe that.” Tony says. He hoists Peter up into his arms. “Consider it taken to my grave.”

“Good.” Michelle says. She follows them to the window and waits until Iron Man is out of sight before she closes it.

=

“That’s _so_ cool,” says Ned at lunch the next day, stabbing at the probably-poisonous mashed potatoes from the school cafeteria. “Iron Man just showed up on your fire escape like that. Iron Man _knows_ where you live.”

Michelle plucks his apple from his tray and stares at him. “Did you forget the part where Peter almost, like, bled out in my bedroom?”

“Well, did he get any blood on your desk chair?”

“No.”

“Then it’s fine.”

“You’re taking this way better than you normally would.”

Ned shrugs. “I already yelled at him about it,” he says. “Like, seriously. Usually I get a heads up. How am I supposed to tell Sprinkles that Peter loves her?”

Michelle resists the urge to facepalm. “You guys really have to stop obsessing over the alley cats.”

“Why? They’re _cute.”_

“They’re evil and you know it.”

“Just because Nick Furry hissed at you that one time does not mean they’re evil.”

She bites into the apple. “Evil. That is the hill I will die on.”

Ned stabs at the potatoes again. “You talked to him yet?”

“Nah. I’m giving him the silent treatment.”

“Oh, nice one. He definitely won’t see that coming.”

Michelle lifts her shoulder in a half-shrug. “There’s a method to my madness.”

“A method that will always remain a mystery.” Ned agrees. 

Her phone buzzes. She picks it up, immediately rolls her eyes, and sets it back on the table, screen down.

“Peter?” Ned guesses.

“Worse.” Michelle says. “Clint.”

“It _boggles_ my mind that you have more than one Avenger in your contacts.”

“He wants me to babysit again.” she mutters. “I said I was done the last time his kid bit me.”

“Dude,” says Ned. “Toddlers bite people. Everyone knows that.”

Michelle gives him a look. _“Not_ the toddler,” she says. “The oldest.”

Ned bursts out laughing.

“It’s not funny!” she protests. Ned laughs on anyway. With a sigh, she picks her phone back up and reluctantly tells Clint she’ll babysit. “If I get bit again, I’m going to kill you.”

“Noted.” Ned answers. He takes the apple out of her hand and bites into it. “Send me a picture when it happens. I wanna frame it.”

=

“Here,” says Michelle, tossing the sandwich bag onto Peter’s lap as she strolls into his medbay room. “Brought this for you.”

“Sweet, thanks,” says Peter, opening it up. “I—are these waffles?”

“At least you know how to say it correctly.” she sits in the chair next to his bed. “Yeah. Peanut butter and nutella—which is _disgusting,_ by the way—on waffles.”

“I cannot believe you just called it disgusting.” he sniffs. He stares at the waffles. “Are they spider webs?”

“Yeah, Stark has them in his freezer.” Michelle grins, all teeth and dimples. “Figured you’d get a kick out of them.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Peter mutters, taking a bite out of the sandwich. “Does this mean I’m forgiven for last night?”

“Guess so.” Michelle answers. “Though you owe me a coffee date for stressing me out.”

“You’re always stressed out.”

“Yeah, and it’s usually ‘cause of you. So you gotta pay up.”

“Of course I’ll take you on a coffee date.” Peter says warmly. He smiles at her with that smile he only reserves for her. “Maybe a decaf coffee date, though.”

Michelle’s eyes narrow. “You take that back.”

“I’m only looking out for you.”

“You can pry my caffeinated beverages from my cold, dead hands,” she says, leaning forward. Peter takes another bite of his waffle sandwich and snickers. “I mean it, Parker.”

“Noted.” Peter answers. “You free Friday?”

She makes a face. “I’m babysitting.”

“Seriously?” he looks surprised. “I thought you were done with Clint after Lila bit you.”

It surprises Michelle how much Peter knows her sometimes. “Yeah, well, he bribed me. I gotta pay for college somehow.”

It’s Peter’s turn to make a face. “Ugh. Don’t remind me.”

“Like you have to worry about that?” Michelle nudges his leg. “You know Stark’s probably got a college fund for you.”

“That’s funny.”

“I’m serious, Peter,” she says. He looks down at his sandwich, so she changes the topic. “Did Stark give you an earful?”

He grimaces. “And May. And Ned.”

“Ouch.”

“I’m waiting for yours, still.”

“Nah,” says Michelle. Truth be told, she’d meant to. But she doesn’t really have the energy for it. “You stumbling into my bedroom at ungodly hours with some kind of wound comes with the territory of dating you, I guess.”

Peter’s eyes soften. “It shouldn’t.”

“I’m over it,” she answers. Whether that’s the complete truth or not doesn’t matter. “Just don’t get blood on my chair or you die.”

“I would never.”

“Uh huh.”

“Besides, I’m all healed up.” Peter uses his free hand to lift his shirt just enough to show that, sure enough, there’s no trace of a stab wound. Just a bruise, purples and blues that warp on his abdomen as he breathes. He lets his shirt fall, taking another bite of the sandwich. “School was okay?”

“The usual.” she kicks at her backpack with her foot. “I brought you your homework. We had a sub in Calc, though, so it’s all easy shit.”

“Oh, good.” he sets the sandwich bag aside and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” 

She stays and pretty much gives him the answers to all the homework he missed, leaning in her chair, eventually kicking off her shoes to prop her feet up at the edge of his bed. And despite Peter not being hooked up to any wires or heart monitors or anything, the image of him in a hospital bed is something that imprints in her memory.

=

When Michelle gets home, she drops her less-heavy backpack near her desk and flings her closet open. Her fake Spidey suit is in the back, hanging off one of the bars and hidden from initial view. She reaches out and runs her hand over the fabric, right over the place on Peter’s suit that had been dark and sticky with blood.

“Fucking Parker,” she mutters, pulling her hand away. 

Maybe she’s not as okay with it all as she told him.

Whatever. It’s not a big deal anyway.

=

Michelle absolutely _does not_ flinch away from Lila Barton when the kid runs up to her with a grin on her face. “Where are your parents?” she asks, kicking off her sneakers. 

“Kitchen.” Lila answers. “Will you play Monopoly with me?”

She walks through the house without answering. “‘Sup,” she greets, as Clint’s wife wipes off Nathaniel’s face. “How long do you need me tonight?”

“As long as possible.” she answers.

“Sounds good to me, as long as I get my coffee.” Michelle replies. She eyes Clint, who jogs into view in black leather and his bow strapped across his back. “That’s not date night-appropriate.”

“Oh, it’s not a date night.” Clint replies. He reaches back, running his fingers along the arrows, counting how many he’s got. “I got a mission. Laura’s going out of town for the weekend. I just needed someone to cover me tonight.”

“Huh,” says Michelle. “Avengers thing?”

“Apparently _retired_ doesn’t mean retired after you get back into the fold to prank Spider-Man.” Clint answers. He presses a kiss to his wife’s cheek and taps one of his hearing aids. “Nothing too big and bad, though. Just helping Tony out with something.”

Laura gives him a narrow-eyed look. “Last time you said that, you came back shot.”

Michelle snickers.

Clint groans. “You’ll never let me live that down, huh?” he kisses her again, then kisses Nathaniel’s head as he sets him on the ground. “I’ll text you. Love you.”

“Be safe,” Laura murmurs back.

He points a finger at Michelle. “You behave.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” she answers.

He laughs in response. Then he leaves the room. Michelle hears him say goodbye to his other kids, and then he’s out the door.

“You know the drill.” Laura tells Michelle, leaning against the counter. “I just gave them dinner, so they should be okay. If they ask for a snack, you know where they are. I’ll be on an airplane, but I’ll have internet, so just text me if you have any questions. Make sure Lila and Cooper do their homework before they watch a movie. They might ask you for questions.”

“Easy.” Michelle answers. “I can handle Calc. What could go wrong?”

She smiles. “You’d be surprised. Thank you so much for doing this again.”

“Of course.” she replies. “Have fun on your weekend.”

Lila waits until her mom leaves before bounding up to Michelle again. “So...Monopoly?” she asks. 

Michelle shakes her head. “Homework first,” she says. “Then I’ll consider it.” 

The eleven-year-old pouts. “But—”

“Nope.” 

Lila takes a step forward. Michelle jerks back. “No. Nuh uh. No teeth. Stay away from me. Homework _first,_ ‘cause your mom said so.”

“Can you at least put on a movie?” she complains.

“No.” Michelle replies. 

Grumbling, Lila storms back into the living room. She joins her brother at the table and pulls out her homework. For a moment, Michelle misses the simplicity of middle school. Then, Lila asks, “Can you help me?”

Never mind. Nostalgic moment over.

So she sits next to the kid—far enough out of bite range—and takes a look at her homework. It’s not awful; then again, it’s simple compared to her AP Government class. She goes over the reading with Lila and helps her find the answers. Soon enough, Cooper asks her a question next about his homework. Simple addition, even easier; she spends the next hour or so bouncing back and forth between the two kids as Nathaniel plays with toy cars on the floor. Just as Cooper is finishing his math exercise, Michelle’s phone rings.

“Oh—hold on.” Michelle says, pulling away. She lifts her phone to her ear. “MJ, go.”

_“Hey.”_ Ned says. The tone of his voice makes Michelle frown. _“Are you watching the news right now?”_

“No, I’m babysitting,” she answers. “Why? What’s up?”

_“You might wanna take a look.”_

Michelle grabs the remote from the end of the couch and flips on the television.

“You said no movies until we’re done with our homework.” Lila says accusingly from her seat at the table.

“I’m not putting on a movie.” Michelle retorts as she goes to the guide, surfing through for the news channel. “I’m putting on the news.”

“Gross.” Nathaniel says, half a car in his mouth.

Michelle eyes him. “I’m getting paid for this,” she says to herself, clicking on the news channel. “Coffee is worth it.”

Coffee, however, is _not_ worth what she sees on the screen.

_Helping Tony out with something_ turns out to be a giant fucking monster in the heart of the city. It’s large and green and honestly terrifying to look at; swarming around the monster is Iron Man, with the rest of the Avengers on the ground. She sees Clint in the corner, firing arrows into the lizard’s hide; Nat by his side, firing guns with both hands. Sam appears in the frame, barrel-rolling into the lizard’s head. Cap’s on the ground. Vision’s out of view, but Michelle can see the beam of light from the stone on his head. Wanda is holding up a collapsing building as people run out of it. She can’t see Bucky, either, but he’s probably sniping out the monster from some roof.

And there’s Peter, webs around the monster’s feet, pulling on the webs to throw him off his balance.

_Shit,_ she thinks. 

_“You still with me?”_ Ned is saying into her ear.

“Uh—yes, yeah, sorry.” Michelle answers. “I’m here. I’m watching.”

_“Did you know about this at all?”_

“No,” she says, a sinking feeling in her chest. “No, I didn’t.”

_“Oh.”_ Ned says. He pauses for a moment. _“I’m sure it’s nothing, probably just last minute. He probably just didn’t want to worry you.”_

“Probably.” Michelle agrees quietly. She runs her hand through her hair as she watches the battle on the screen.

“Mom says we’re not allowed to watch fight stuff.” Cooper says from his chair. 

“Then don’t watch it.” Michelle replies. She’s probably being a horrible babysitter. Then again, Clint’s kid bit her last time she was here, so they can deal with it. 

“Okay, I’m done!” Lila announces. She shuts her notebook and shoves her school stuff back into her backpack. “Can we put on a movie now?”

“Not until your brother’s done.”

“I _am_ done.” Cooper says. Michelle glances at him; sure enough, he’s sitting there, his backpack packed again. “I wanna watch _Cars!”_

“I am _so_ sick of that movie.” Lila complains. “I wanna watch _Moana!”_

“No!” Cooper whines. “You picked that movie last time!”

“Yeah, and I’m older, so I get to pick the movie all the time!”

“That’s not fair!”

“Yes it is!”

“I like _Moana!”_ Nathaniel says helpfully from the floor. He taps two of his cars together. 

“Guys.” Michelle replies, eyes still focused on the screen. The building Wanda was holding up crumbles, all civilians gone from it. “Be quiet for a minute.”

“No!” Cooper stands up. “You’re supposed to be babysitting us! You don’t get to pick the movie!”

“I like _Paw Patrol,”_ says Nathaniel. “MJ, can we watch _Paw Patrol?”_

Lila rolls her eyes. “Nobody wants to watch that, Nathan.”

“But _I_ do!”

“I’m telling Mom that you’re letting us watch fight stuff.” Cooper tells Michelle.

“Bite me,” Michelle answers. Then: “Actually, please don’t. One bite from you guys is enough.”

Lila sniffs. “I _said_ I was sorry!”

“No, you didn’t,” she replies. “You cried when I threatened to tell your parents.”

“Yeah, that was me being sorry!”

“Put on Lightning McQueen!” Cooper complains.

“No!” Nathaniel argues. 

“You don’t get a say, you’re only three!”

“That’s mean! Hey! My car—don’t take my car!”

“Cooper,” Michelle says, as Captain America takes a hit that looks a little too painful for her liking, “give your brother his car back.”

“No!” Cooper shouts. “It was _mine_ first!”

“No!” Nathaniel cries back, and then the brothers are on the floor, tugging over the car in Cooper’s hands. Lila’s taken to chanting _Moana_ at the top of her lungs, only getting louder over the screeching over her brothers.

Michelle can’t take it. She whirls around, lowering her phone from her ear. “Hey!” she shouts, loud enough to make all three kids go silent. “Knock it off! Cooper, give the car back to your brother. Lila, we’re not watching _Moana_ again. All three of you have to pick a movie that you _agree_ on, and then we’ll—”

Ned’s shriek is loud enough to be heard from MJ’s lowered phone. _“Shit!”_

Cooper narrows his eyes at the phone in her hand. “He said a bad word.”

“Just—just pick a movie.” Michelle snaps. She brings her phone back to her ear. “Ned—”

_“MJ, are you watching?”_

Michelle spins around, her heart sinking lower. The camera is zoomed in on a familiar red-and-blue clad hero on the ground in a heap of rocks, clearly unconscious.

_Shit_ is right.

“Ned,” she says, mouth suddenly dry.

_“Yeah,”_ says Ned, already knowing what she’s going to say without her having to say it. _“Yeah, I’ll let you go. Keep me updated. I’m gonna go find Nick Furry.”_

Michelle’s too worried to make a quip about it. She lets Ned hang up before finding Peter’s number with shaking fingers, putting it back to her ear. 

“Pick up,” she mutters. “C’mon, Peter, c’mon, Spider-Man, patch me through, pick up, _please_ —”

_“Hey, it’s Peter! Leave a message after the tone and I’ll get back to you ASAP! Thank you!”_

Double shit. She calls him again.

_“Hey, it’s Peter! Leave a message after the tone and I’ll—”_

Michelle hangs up. Calls one more time. The screen zooms out to show Wanda and Vision giving the monster everything they have; Iron Man has landed on the ground next to Peter, hand on his chest, helmet disappearing.

She takes one look at Tony’s face and sees terror.

_“Hey, it’s Peter! Leave a message after—”_

Fuck. Shit. _Shit._ He’s not getting up. He always gets back up. Is he breathing? The video footage is shaky, too shaky to make out. Tony is still hovering over Peter’s unconscious form, mouthing something Michelle can’t make out.

“MJ,” says Cooper from behind her. “We picked a movie.”

All three kids have sobered up. Lila is looking at her funny but doesn’t say anything. 

“Yeah?” Michelle asks. Her hands are trembling as she shoves her phone into her sweatshirt. Babysitting first, worrying about her maybe-dead boyfriend second. “What’d you pick?”

_“...Frozen?”_

It’s actually the worst movie of everything suggested, but Michelle doesn’t feel like making them pick another one. And she needs a distraction. A big one. “Okay,” she says, letting out a breath. “Okay, Lila, why don’t you put it in? I’ll make some popcorn. Nathan, can you clean your cars up for me before we start the movie?”

Miraculously, he does. Lila puts the movie into the DVD player and sits next to her brother on the couch. By the time Michelle returns with the popcorn, all three Barton kids are sitting on the couch, covered by a blanket, a big gap between the brothers and Lila.

Michelle raises an eyebrow. “What’s up?”

“We always cuddle when we watch a movie.” Lila says, matter-of-fact. She pats the spot next to her on the couch. “It’s law in this house.”

“You gotta.” Cooper adds. 

And how can she say no to three pairs of puppy dog eyes? Reluctantly, Michelle pulls the blanket back and settles in the middle of the kids as Lila presses play on the movie. Her phone feels like a brick in her sweatshirt pocket, a weight that keeps getting heavier with every second. She wants to check it, but for what? If Peter’s unconscious, he won’t answer. She’s not about to pester Stark when he’s probably as high-strung as she is. Same with the other Avengers. Ned would answer, but he usually just freaks her out more in this situation. And May’s on a double and the last thing Michelle wants to do is worry Peter’s aunt, especially if she hasn’t seen the news yet. No, she can settle for two hours of torture and try her hardest to forget. Her ringtone is on, anyway; if anyone calls, she’ll know.

It’s only been five minutes and it’s already killing her.

As the intro song starts, the one about building snowmen, Lila gently taps Michelle on the shoulder. “Mom always gets worried when she sees Dad hurt.” she whispers, so quiet so she doesn’t disturb her brothers. “But he always ends up okay.”

Michelle wants to find that comforting, but it doesn’t quell the nausea in her stomach. “Thanks, kid,” she whispers back.

Lila pats her hand. “I like Spider-Man a lot.” she tells her. “Don’t tell my dad but he’s my favorite Avenger.”

“Mine too,” Michelle answers. She smiles a bit.

Satisfied, Lila leans back into the couch and up against Michelle’s side. And Michelle usually isn’t one for touching, but this somehow feelings...comforting. It reminds her of movie nights at Peter’s, pressed up against his side, rolling her eyes at Ned’s Star Wars-related pun as Peter threads his fingers through hers.

_Please be okay._

She contemplates how many waffles she’d be willing to buy just to make sure her idiot of a boyfriend isn’t dead.

=

Michelle is halfway through watching _Frozen_ when her phone rings.

She leaps out from under the blanket. Cooper, who is half-asleep, miraculously doesn’t stir. She crosses into the kitchen and presses her phone against her ear, not bothering to check the caller ID. “Hello?”

“Hey, kid.” It’s Clint. Michelle lets out a breath. “How’s the babysitting going?”

“Good.” she says. “We’re watching _Frozen.”_

“Ugh.”

“Exactly.”

“But homework’s done? All that?”

“Yep.” Michelle answers, leaning against the counter. Her fingers itch, so she drums them along the cabinet as a distraction. “I made popcorn. I’m pretty sure Cooper’s about to fall asleep, and I’m not carrying him to his bed.”

“Fair enough.” Clint reasons. He lets out a chuckle that sounds forced. “Listen—”

“Is Peter okay?” she blurts out.

The hesitation on the other line is enough to make her spiral just a little bit. “He’s banged up, MJ,” Clint answers. “It’s—it’s pretty bad. But he’ll make it through.”

“Okay.” Michelle says. Her voice wobbles. “Okay—that’s good. The lizard thing?”

“Dead six times over. I can promise you that.”

“Is—is anyone else hurt?”

“Nothing too major.” Clint replies. “Cap thinks he’s got a concussion, but he hasn’t gotten checked out yet. Just some cuts and bruises for the rest of us.”

“Right.” Michelle answers. She tries breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth, like her therapist recommends. It doesn’t really help. “Right, that’s good. I saw that hit on Cap, it looked pretty bad.”

“Yeah. Nothing he can’t shake.” 

“How’s Tony?”

“Probably the same as you.”

“Comes with the territory, I guess.”

“Yeah,” Clint says. Softly, he adds, “You know, if you ever need to talk to someone about this stuff—”

“I’m fine.” Michelle cuts in. “I’m already seeing a therapist.”

“Yeah, but you can’t tell that therapist that your boyfriend’s Spider-Man.”

He’s not wrong. 

“Did you meet Wilson last time we all met up?” Clint asks. His words are starting to sound far away. “Sam, Falcon, whatever. Oh, yeah, you guys took a picture together. Well—he’s kinda really good at talking, especially when it comes to this. He’d probably be willing to sit down with you, if you want, kid. I know all of this can’t be easy.”

“Easy,” Michelle repeats. She grips the counter with her free hand.

“I know it sounds stupid. But hey, listen, just think about it, okay? I’ll text you his number. Tony’s kind of a wreck right now, so I’ll give you updates on Peter. He’s gonna be okay, kid.” 

“Okay.” she mumbles. “Okay, I—I gotta go.”

“I’ll be home soon.” Clint promises. “Just as soon as we get this all wrapped up. You want me to bring you coffee?”

“I—no.” Michelle says, and that’s when she knows something is really wrong. “No coffee.”

Clint seems to notice it too. “Okay, MJ,” he says softly. “I’ll let you know when I’m on my way.”

He hangs up the phone.

Michelle takes a minute. Her vision clears. She releases her grip on the counter and lets out a breath, centering her back to Clint’s kitchen, with his three kids watching _Frozen_ in the other room. 

Her feet take her back to the couch before her mind can process it. Then she’s back under the blanket, Cooper on one side, Lila on the other, and she focuses on the dumb singing snowman to prevent her tears from falling.

=

True to his word, Clint lets her know when he’s on his way. Granted, Michelle is pretty sure he forgot and texted her while sitting in his driveway, because not even three minutes later, he’s coming through the door, trying to be quiet, unzipping his boots on the front carpet.

“Kids are upstairs,” says Michelle, while he tries (and fails) to be as quiet as possible. “All three are asleep. Lila might have fooled me and might be reading, though, but I always approve of staying up late to read.”

“Yeah, well, I’ll hate it tomorrow when she sleeps in until noon.” Clint grumbles. He sets his bow on the table beside him and stops where he stands, giving Michelle a look that churns her stomach. “How are you doing?”

“‘M fine,” Michelle says.

“You said my kids are all upstairs?”

“Uh huh.”

“Well then I call bullshit.” he says plainly. Michelle raises an eyebrow. “Believe it or not, I can tell when someone’s on the brink of a panic attack over the phone.”

She crosses her arms. “I have them all the time. It’s no big deal.”

“Sure.” Clint replies. “How long have you and Peter been dating, again?”

“Couple months.”

“How many times has he almost died in those couple months?”

Michelle lets her arms fall. “Just today. Well, unless you count the four times he’s stumbled into my bedroom and I’ve had to stitch him up.”

“Those aren’t as bad as today, though,” he points out. “Were they?”

She sighs. “No, they weren’t. Except for the last time, maybe.”

Clint settles on the couch as she retells what she’s dubbed the Waffle story. The image of Peter’s bloody abdomen flashes through her mind again. It happens. She _knows_ it happens. It’s not a big deal. It isn’t.

“Listen,” says Clint, placing his arms on his knees as he leans forward. “It’s all new to you, I get that. Being a friend of a superhero versus being in a relationship with one is a huge difference. You have every right to freak the fuck out when something happens.”

“I’m not _like_ that, though,” Michelle protests. “I’m fine. It happens. I don’t get all...icky about it. Ever.”

“It’s not a bad thing, kid.” Clint answers. 

Michelle really isn’t in the mood for a big talk. “Yeah,” she says, pulling her phone out. There’s no word from Tony or Ned or Peter; she tries not to let that get to her. “I know. Listen, I should probably call an Uber now if I’m gonna get back home within the hour.”

Clint grins. It’s a shit-eating grin. It’s the grin she hates the absolute most. “Yeah,” he says. “About that...I kinda got you a ride.”

=

The ride turns out to be Sam Wilson sitting in an Audi in Clint’s driveway. Michelle, her pockets full of Starbucks gift cards, reluctantly stalks her way to the passenger seat and slides in. 

“What’s up?” Sam asks, putting the car in reverse.

Michelle buckles her seatbelt. “Just lay it on me,” she says. “I know why you’re here.”

“What, I can’t just visit my favorite Spider-Man?”

“That was just a prank.”

“You’re still better than the real one. I say this with absolutely no love: he’s a little shit.”

“Agreed,” says Michelle. “But I know you’re not driving me forty minutes home just because we both think he’s an asshole.”

Sam backs out of the driveway. “All right, fine,” he says. “You’re right. I didn’t. Clint mentioned you were a little stressed out about all this.”

“It’s just normal superhero stuff.” Michelle says, looking out the window. “You know, when your boyfriend’s a seventeen-year-old Avenger who happens to get beat up a lot. That’s normal high school shit.”

“Sure,” Sam deadpans. “Completely normal. Happened to me in high school, too.” 

“You’re funny, did you know that?”

“Really?”

“No.”

Sam shrugs. “I tried,” he says, more to himself, as he turns onto the main road at the end of Clint’s street. “Fine. You don’t wanna talk? Then I’ll talk instead. I was in the Air Force when my wingman died. It took...a lot outta me. I left active combat when he died, and instead I turned my attention to veterans suffering from PTSD at the VA closest to my house. And talking them through their problems helped me with mine. Now, being an Avenger is way different than working in the military, but it can be just as hard. Especially when you’re the loved one of an Avenger.”

_Loved one._ Michelle rubs her palms against her jeans. “Okay, yeah,” she says. “Yeah, it’s pretty hard sometimes. It was different, when I knew Peter was Spider-Man but we weren’t...together. Like, yeah, I knew he had a building dropped on him—”

“He had a _what?!”_

“—but it didn’t affect me as much, I guess ‘cause we were just friends.” Michelle shrugs. She ignores Sam’s outburst. “He’s climbed into my bedroom, like, five times since we started dating with various injuries. I always stitch him back up and he’s fine. Just the other day, he literally got _stabbed_ and came over. I handled it.”

Sam eyes her as he reaches the highway. “Didn’t you call Stark?”

“Yeah.” Michelle says after a moment. “Like I said, I handled it.”

“Right,” he answers. “Have you ever called Stark before?”

“No.”

“Do you see my point?”

“Regrettably.”

Sam drums his fingers on the steering wheel. “Listen, kid,” he says, in a quieter tone. “It’s not a big deal to be upset about this stuff. It just means you care.”

“That’s not me.” Michelle says immediately. “I mean—of course I care, but. I’ve always tried to be honest no matter what, but...I think I’m afraid.”

“Of what?”

“Of driving him away.”

She’s too busy staring at her hands to see Sam’s reaction. “You’re not gonna scare Parker away just because you _care_ about him.” Sam says.

Michelle shrugs again. “I tend to drive everyone away.”

“Not Peter.” Sam says firmly. “I haven’t had much experience with the kid but I know enough to be sure of that. Point is, kid, you’re not alone. Even if you don’t want to tell him right away. You know Clint’s wife. Pepper would without a doubt make free time to help you out. They’ve been going through exactly what you’re starting to go through now. They’d be more than willing to help.”

She looks away from her hands to steal a glance at his expression. “You say that like you’ve talked to them about me.”

He chuckles. “Well, all of us know who you are. You’re an honorary Avenger. Considering the prank you pulled on Spider-Man, I think you deserve it.”

Huh. An honorary Avenger. That sounds...kinda nice. “Well, thanks,” she says, very quietly.

“‘Course.” Sam answers. “Sorry to get all deep on you like that.”

“No, I—I appreciate it.” Michelle admits. “I mean, I’ve already got a therapist, but like Clint said, I can’t exactly tell him that my boyfriend is a crime-fighting superhero.” 

“Consider me a once-in-a-blue-moon kinda therapist, then,” says Sam. “Like, when you really just need to work out all this Avenger bullshit with someone who has super awesome therapy skils, y’know?”

Michelle smiles lightly. “Okay,” she says. “Deal.”

“Clint told me he sent you my number?”

“Yeah, I’ve got it right here.”

“Cool.” Sam says. “If you ever need a chat, just text me.”

“Cool.” she answers. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

Michelle leans forward to turn the radio on, playing some popular song she doesn’t know the name of but she doesn’t completely hate it. Sam takes that as the end of the conversation and leans on the accelerator, speeding down the highway in the direction of Michelle’s home. They don’t talk for the remainder of the drive. Not until Sam pulls right in front of Michelle’s complex, putting the car in park as she unbuckles her seatbelt.

“Thanks for the ride.” Michelle says. “And the talk.”

“Don’t hesitate to text if you need anything.” Sam replies. “And Pete—the little shit’s gonna pull through. He always does.”

“Yeah,” Michelle says. Somehow she believes it a little bit more this time around. She flashes a quick smile as she climbs out of the car. “He does.”

=

She stays awake until four in the morning. Ned falls asleep on their FaceTime call somewhere around two. Tonight, it’s not caffeine keeping Michelle awake but her anxiety; she’s already taken her meds but she wishes they’d kick in faster than they usually do.

Michelle wonders what Peter’s doing. If he’s awake, in pain, or sleeping, completely oblivious. She knows he’s got an enhanced metabolism—seeing him eat two whole pizzas that one time is absolutely proof enough—but wonders if Tony and Bruce Banner have developed any sort of painkillers modified to keep Peter sedated. They probably have. If Michelle’s thought of it, they’ve probably thought of it. Although she’s a bit convinced she may be smarter than them in some areas.

She reaches for her phone and looks at her background for a long time. It’s a picture of Peter, one she snapped when he fell asleep with his head half-buried in the popcorn bowl. She’s not even sure if Peter knows the photo exists, but it’s Michelle’s favorite photo of him by far. 

Her thumb hovers over his contact for a long time. There’s no way he’ll answer, but what if he does? She doesn’t want to just send a text. She feels like that’s kinda lame. Michelle calls him without another thought and presses the phone to her ear. 

It goes straight to voicemail, as she expected and maybe hoped. After the beep, Michelle takes a deep breath. “Hey, Parker,” she says, rolling over onto her side. “I, uh, saw you on TV today. That was—that was some hit. I tried to call and you didn’t answer, which makes a lot of sense. Clint said you’re gonna pull through, and I believe him, ‘cause you always get back up, but...I just wanted to say that I’m, um, thinking about you. I’m worried for you. You’ll probably be awake tomorrow, so I’ll talk to you tomorrow. It’s Saturday, so I’ll see if I can borrow Mom’s car and drive up there to see you. I just—um, feel better soon, okay? I’ll bring you waffles.”

Michelle takes a breath and sniffs. “Later, loser,” she says softly, and then she hangs up the phone.

=

Michelle wakes up the next morning to a voicemail left in her inbox at six in the morning, just two hours after she’d called.

_“Hey, Em,”_ says Peter’s voice, a little hoarse. _“It’s...so good to hear your voice. You have no idea. My head fucking kills, but they’ve got me on these meds and I’ll probably be high in, like, five minutes so I figured I’d call now so you don’t have more leverage on me. I’m sorry about yesterday. I’m sorry you had to see it. Sometimes I forget that I have someone like you who—really cares about me that way.”_ He breathes out a laugh. _“Please come see me, if you can. I don’t know if I’ll be awake or even able to keep down waffles but I’ll do my best for you. Text me when you wake up. I hope I’ll see you soon.”_

She’s thrown on an old sweatshirt and a pair of leggings by the time the voicemail is done. Her parents are gone and will be til nightfall, judging by the note left for her on the counter, but sitting next to the note is Mom’s car keys. Michelle grabs the keys and a banana and rushes out the door within fifteen minutes of her waking up. 

The coffee she grabs on the way to the compound is finished by the time she reaches it. Michelle wonders, still, how the fuck her life has become this: normal visits to the Avengers facility, Tony Stark among other Avengers in her contacts. Her boyfriend is a _superhero,_ for shit’s sake. She babysits Hawkeye’s kids in return for copious amounts of coffee money. Literally, what the fuck.

“‘Sup, Wanda?” she greets, flashing a smile at the first Avenger she sees on her way into the compound. “How’s it going?”

“As good as it can be.” Wanda replies, brushing her hair out of her face. “Here to see Peter?”

“Yeah.” Michelle answers. She hates how breathy she sounds.

Wanda pats her shoulder. “He’s in his bedroom,” she says. “Looking much better than yesterday already, but he’s still on bedrest. Tony only moved him because he wouldn’t stop whining.”

Michelle smiles. “Sounds like Peter.”

“You know where to go.” Wanda removes her hand from Michelle’s shoulder. “If you plan on staying for a while, I just got a Cards Against Humanity: Avengers Addition. I’m going to force everyone to join in.”

“God, I love you,” Michelle sighs.

Wanda smiles at her. “Don’t tell the little spider. I’ll see you later?”

“Of course.” 

The Sokovian walks past her toward the common areas. Michelle turns in the direction of the rooms, walking down until she sees the Star Wars poster plastered on the exterior. She raises a hand and knocks. “Pete? You awake in there?”

“Yeah,” he calls back, voice muffled.

Michelle pushes the door open, shielding her eyes with her hand. “Are you decent?”

“Funny,” Peter deadpans. 

“Well, are you?”

_“Yes,_ Em. I’m decent.”

She lowers her hand. There’s a bruise on Peter’s jaw and a cut over his eyebrow, but other than that, he looks like Peter. Peter, just slightly banged up. 

“Hey.” Michelle says. 

“Hey.” Peter echoes. 

“You look like shit.” she says.

“Gee, thanks,” he replies sarcastically. “Exactly what I want to hear from my girlfriend after I almost die.”

Michelle glares at him. “Not funny.”

Peter winces. “Right,” he says, looking down at his hands. “Sorry. Definitely not funny.”

Michelle closes the door behind her. She gestures to the empty side of his bed. “I’m gonna sit here,” she says, and Peter only nods. So she climbs into his bed over the covers, sitting cross-legged so she can face him. “Listen—”

“Em, I—”

They both falter. “You—you go first.” Peter says after a moment.

Michelle feels like she’s one of those dumb middle schoolers in a puppy-love relationship. Then again, this is her first relationship and she doesn’t really know much about love. So maybe she’s just playing herself. “Okay,” she says. “Um, listen, Parker, I’m not—really good at this relationship stuff. Or this you-getting-hurt stuff. I mean, like, yeah, you’re Spider-Man, and that’s really cool, and I’ve made my peace with that, but—I don’t like getting three-in-the-morning texts saying you were stabbed, or not knowing that you’re going on a mission, or having to watch my boyfriend get punched into a pile of rocks on the news. I don’t—know,” she mutters, shaking her head. “This is stupid. I’m being stupid. Just ignore me, forget I said anything—”

“Hey,” Peter says again, covering one of her hands with his own. “Hey, you’re not being stupid. MJ, I literally know _nothing_ about being in a relationship. Especially since my relationship is with one of my best friends. You know—everything about me. Literally. Spider-Man is my biggest secret and you figured it out months ago. You literally pulled the _greatest_ prank of all time on me because I’m pretty much always oblivious.”

“You are _always_ oblivious.” Michelle agrees under her breath.

Peter smiles slightly and gives her hand a light squeeze. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” he says. “With Spider-Man, with you. All I know is I wanna help people. And I want to be with you. That’s all I need.”

“God, you’re such a sap.” 

“I try.”

Michelle brushes her hair out of her face. “I’m not good at feelings, either.”

“I know.” Peter promises.

“But I really, really care about you.”

He squeezes her hand again. “I really, really care about you too.”

“Good.” Michelle says. She smiles a little. “Good to know.”

“And we’re figuring everything out together.” Peter adds. “Right?”

“Right.”

“So we’re okay?”

“Yeah,” she replies, and instantly feels relieved. “We’re okay.”

“Good.” Peter murmurs. He leans forward to cup her jaw and kisses her gently, soft and sweet, before pulling away with a goofy smile. “So...where are my waffles?”

“In the kitchen,” Michelle replies. “I didn’t make them yet.”

“But you promised me waffles.”

She swats at his pout. “Okay, loser, calm down. Give me five minutes.”

His pout melts into another one of those smiles. “You’re the best.”

“Oh, I know.” Michelle climbs off of the bed. “You don’t have to tell me twice.”

When she comes back, five minutes later, waffle sandwich on a plate, she retakes her seat on his bed. He almost looks better than he did when she first got here. As she passes the plate over to him, he smiles once again. “Hey,” he says, putting the plate on his lap. “I really didn’t mean to worry you.”

“I know.” Michelle promises. “I just have to get used to the fact that my boyfriend is a little shit who likes to make three a.m. appearances in my bedroom with various injuries.”

“Yep.” Peter agrees. He takes a bite out of the sandwich and grins. “Just make sure you have waffles next time.”

=

Later, when she’s surrounded by the Avengers in the common room, pressed up against Peter on the couch while they play Cards Against Humanity, her anxiety fades away. Peter brushes his lips against her temple, very obviously trying to sneak a look at her cards, so Michelle elbows him in the ribs.

This time, when he lets out a wince, she doesn’t feel as bad about it.

Maybe getting used to having Spider-Man as her boyfriend isn’t as difficult as she thought.

**Author's Note:**

> please let me know what you think! should i keep writing for them? should i let it go? should i write something about cards against humanity: avengers addition??? i love validation thank u queens!


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